


the other side of the sun

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Come Eating, Extra Treat, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Referenced Past Medical Experimentation, Rocket Has A Vagina, Self-Esteem Issues, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 17:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: “Knock it off,” Rocket grumbles, “or you’ll have a mess on your hands.”Understanding sharpens Thor’s blue eye, and the fake gold one whirs with interest. “What sort of mess?” he asks.





	the other side of the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



Rocket feels warm when he wakes up.

That's good, because last thing Rocket remembers is feeling the opposite of warm. His body clamped up and he couldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard he tried. They planned for cold nights on this moon, packed their thermal gear just in case. But the Quinjet's scanners underestimated the temperature drop. The gear didn’t do jack, and the degrees plunged so fast…

It smells good when Rocket wakes up. He takes a deep, appreciative breath. Earthy, nice, like if summer had a scent. He catches a waft of smoke too. Reds from a nearby campfire dance across the surface he’s nestled against. It's solid as steel, but pleasantly warm. Rocket thinks of the not-so-great days after he was made. It was cold in that shithole lab, and Rocket would curl next to a heating pipe to keep warm. Its metal soothed the chill-ache in his reconfigured bones.

Metal. Gamora thought Thor felt like metal, back when Gamora was alive.

Fingers idly rub between Rocket’s ears, and deep breaths rise and fall against Rocket’s body. Rocket’s _naked_ body.

Rocket pokes his head out from the neck of Thor’s shirt. They're lying together in a sleep pack meant for one. From the outline of the bag, Thor has his knees drawn up. He's centering his body warmth, offering Rocket as much as he can. The campfire makes Thor’s skin look like gold.

“Hey.” Thor’s voice is low. “Are you alright?”

“You did all this?” With Rocket's face turned up and Thor’s tilted down, they’re a breath away from nuzzling each other. ...Not that Rocket's ever thought of doing something so soft. Disgusting.

Thor offers an apologetic smile. “Your were slurring your words and shaking, my friend. Forgive me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m putting a bullet through that thermal scanner,” Rocket mutters. “Piece of junk.” Thor chuckles.

They're close enough that Rocket feels the swell of Thor’s heartbeat. Every breath Thor takes is deep and strong. His exhales tickle the tips of Rocket’s ears. “Are you comfortable?” Thor asks.

Rocket snorts. “Too comfortable.” He may as well be honest. Anyone sprawled against the God of Thunder would get a little horny.

Thor’s laugh is quieter this time. It's a comfortable sound, like dipping into a warm spring. Rocket bunches against feelings that start to flutter between his thighs.

“I feel the same,” Thor says, which Rocket doubts. There’s a big difference between Rocket rubbing up against Thor and vice versa.

Besies, if Thor _could_ relate, he’d know not to stick fingers without warning into the tuff of Rocket’s neck. His fur gathers thick in the dip between his head and shoulders. A shudder rolls through Rocket, and the tickle between his thighs turns hotter. Wetter too, damn it. Rocket tries to think about gross stuff. Medical experiments. Living planets. Ronan’s stupid blue dome.

“Still cold?” Thor asks. He drags careful fingers down Rocket’s spine. The metal implants in Rocket’s back twist and draw in. The reaction earns Thor’s surprise. “Does that hurt?”

“Knock it off,” Rocket grumbles, “or you’ll have a mess on your hands.”

Understanding sharpens Thor’s blue eye, and the fake gold one whirs with interest. “What sort of mess?” he asks.

“C’mon, man, you’re not dumb.”

Thor is a lot of things, but he definitely isn't stupid. He scratches fingers again into the tuff of Rocket’s neck. Rocket, caught off-guard, moans like Thor socked him in the jaw. Wet heat spills through his loins - s _hit_. Rocket bundles himself as tightly as he can. It doesn't help. Arousal soaks into his fur.

“May I see?” Thor asks, because he’s no help at all.

Rocket shoots him an incredulous look. “Are you crazy?”

Thor smiles, which - yeah, good sign he’s crazy. Firelight plays off the wetness of Thor's recently licked lips. Hunger and embarrassment war for top spot in Rocket's brain. “You are crazy,” he breathes.

“A little bit, yeah,” Thor agrees. He traces the point of Rocket’s ear with a thumb. “But so are you. I have a feeling this could work.” Simple. Like wanting to fuck a thing like Rocket isn’t the height of insanity.

Thor doesn’t look the slightest bit torn. Arousal glows off his face. No second thoughts. “You, uh, just gonna talk about it or what?” Rocket shoots Thor a grin he almost feels.

Thor kneads a pair of fingers between Rocket’s ears. Rocket basks in the touch, sighing out loud. He’s so distracted that he jumps when Thor’s other pries his knees apart. “Shh,” Thor murmurs. The sound usually makes Rocket’s skin crawl, belittling and hoity. This time, Rocket’s mouth slips open in anticipation.

Thor tests the length of Rocket’s slit with a thumb. Rocket doesn’t need to see to know Thor’s skin comes away moist. Thor makes a low, pleased sound. “Am I the cause of all this?” he asks.

Rocket knows teasing when he hears it. “Cocky bastard,” he snarls.

Thor’s smile could ignite a dying star. “How nice of me.” Rocket’s fur mats down in the dampness of his arousal.

“Fuck you,” Rocket fires back, but the barb comes with zero heat. One finger is enough from Thor to make Rocket's own heartbeat pulse tangibly between his thighs.

Rocket can't remember the last time he was this turned on. Usually, Rocket withdraws from provocation long before reaching the point of no return. The last thing Rocket needs is anyone mocking the fuzzy freak for hiding a cunt in his trousers. Thor didn’t play fair tonight. Stripping Rocket to save him from freezing. Forcing Rocket to wake up naked against Thor’s stupid-hot body. Heroic bastard. Rocket didn't stand a chance.

Thor peels the outer lips of Rocket’s sex like a fruit. “Gods, if only we were off this freezing rock." His tongue teases Rocket's ear. "I would drink you until you ran dry.”

“Shut the hell up,” Rocket gasps, because he can’t think of a better retort. This situation is way out of Rocket's league. He hopes Thor doesn’t catch on, at least before working those big-ass fingers inside.

“No, you,” Thor says. Rocket barks a laugh, startled by the less-than-regal response. More at ease, he stretches inside Thor’s clothes. The fabric shifts against his fur. Rocket’s tail twitches in pleasure.

Thor sure is taking his sweet time. He thumbs at Rocket's slit with slow, deliberate strokes. Rocket tries to force more by spreading his legs. It opens up his folds and makes him even more aware of how wet he is. Rocket shivers at how exposed he feels, but he won't back down, not this time. He glares expectantly up at Thor.

Thor doesn't get the memo, or if he does he doesn't care. With Rocket opened wide, Thor takes extra care not to touch. His thumb circles a gentle rim around Rocket's fully bared consent. “Thor, you asshole,” Rocket grumbles. He is not sure whether he's more aggravated or turned on by Thor's smile.

“May I ask,” Thor says, “what is this?” Without warning, Thor's thumb shifts right against the little mound standing soft at the top of Rocket's sex.

After minutes of building frustration, Rocket is not prepared for the touch. Sparks of sensation shoot through his belly. Rocket yelps, and his nails find their way into Thor’s chest. The mini-puncture marks are barely bigger than the guy’s pores.

Rocket knows he’s in trouble when Thor grins. “Ah,” Thor says, “I see.” His lips graze Rocket's ear.

“I hate you,” Rocket growls.

He wishes he could hate Thor like he’s tried to hate everyone he’s ever given a damn about. It didn’t work back then, and it sure as hell isn’t working now. Rocket wants Thor. Maybe lov- _cares_. Rocket _cares_ about Thor, and it’s making this whole situation worse. Or better? Rocket doesn't know anymore.

“I have a conundrum, my friend.” Thor’s breathy voice makes Rocket feel as many things as Thor's hand. His damn thumb is still circling the fleshy mound beyond Rocket’s cunt. Rocket has always hated the thing. Bad enough that his stupid makers gave him a vag. They couldn’t even make it right. The idiots stuck what Rocket guesses is a clit outside his damn sex. Assholes.

No one’s ever seen it before. Rocket fucks in the dark and as fast as possible. If his partners ever notice the dumb skin tag, they smirk it off and continue without comment. Rocket himself barely touches the thing. His body is a bad joke. Rocket tries to think as little about it as possible.

Now, here's Thor, a-hole that he is, mulling some mystery while rubbing Rocket into an early grave. “ _What_?” Rocket demands, voice cracking. “ _What_ conundrum, you jackoff?”

Laughter rumbles under Thor’s words. “You see, I quite enjoy this.” Thor digs two fingers into the tuff at the back of Rocket’s neck. Rocket goes bone straight, wedged blissfully against Thor’s thumb. He whimpers like some pup, head tipped back to Thor’s fingers. “But,” a deeper texture thickens Thor’s voice, “my own needs call me.”

Rocket’s snicker comes out choked. “Yeah, sure. Makes sense. Pirate angels pop boners for freaks like me all the time.”

He nearly howls when Thor abandons his sex entirely. Thor’s gaze is hard, a serious slant to his mouth. “Do not call yourself that,” he says.

Rocket considers fighting Thor on it. This is cute and all, but Rocket knows what's happening here. Thor feels bad for Rocket. Poor little fuzzy monster getting cold in the middle of the night.

Rocket's anger does not last, lost to the uneasy patter of his own heartbeat. He doesn't mean to nuzzle Thor’s fingers but - eh, shit happens. “You better jerk yourself off real good, Thunder,” he says. “Don’t let me down.”

Thor’s expression does not lighten, but the fingers against Rocket's face retreat. Rocket thinks he knows where they're going, straight down to grab that godly dick of his.

Rocket is not expecting a firm grip on his ass. Thor twists his tail out of the way so he can give a tighter squeeze. “Oh shit,” Rocket gasps. His whole body turns to jelly, and - fuck, oh fuck, he's _squirting_! Juicing like a ripe fruit. All over Thor's fingers.

For once in his life, Rocket is thankful for his fur so Thor can't see the humiliated heat on his face. Damn Thor. Rocket _told_ the guy if he didn't stop he'd wind up with a mess on his hands. Literally. This is all Thor's fault. Rocket wishes the sleep pack would swallow him whole.

Thor drags his hand out from under their bundle of sleep pack and clothes. His fingers are dripping when he brings them to his lips. Rocket's start of a cringe becomes wide-eyed gawking when Thor sucks them into his mouth. Thor's eyes close, a groan muffled into his own skin.

“You got issues,” Rocket marvels.

Thor definitely can't be right in the head. He looks dazed when his saliva-soaked fingers slip out of his mouth. A deep-rooted tremor rocks him as his legs unfurl to fill the full length of the sleep pack. Thor's face is a dull red, and heat is beginning to mat Rocket's fur to his face. So much for the cold.

Rocket can't see, but he knows the exact moment when Thor starts touching himself. Even the guy's sighs sound expensive; his groan is flat-out luxurious as his body arches under the fabric. Rocket feels a spike of jealousy. He wants to make Thor feel as good as that hand. And he wants Thor touching him again. Now.

“You don't pick up the pace, I'm stealing your move, Thunder.” Rocket has never been a big fan of masturbating. He's always been too embarrassed about what he has to work with. Rubbing out his own orgasms made him feel stupid. ...But Thor doesn't have to know that.

“Mm. Forgive me, sweet Rabbit.” Thor's hum shivers through Rocket like a live wire. “I simply wanted to savor this.” His thumb coaxes into the soft mound of Rocket's clit. “You.”

Index and middle finger ease past Rocket's fur into the slick, soaked heat of his sex. Rocket muffles a whine against Thor's chest. He's been on edge for Thor's fingers. Now that Rocket has them, he doesn't know what to do.

Good thing for him, Thor has ideas. His two fingers are thick, easily as big pressed together as the largest cock Rocket has ever taken. After the slow teasing, Rocket doesn't expect the pair to plunge into him without build up, but…

It's insane how big Thor is inside Rocket. It's even more insane that his fingers don't hurt! Rocket is no virgin, but he can't remember a time when he was ever this wet. His arousal slicks Thor's fingers, weeping down Thor's wrist to soak into his t-shirt.

A shudder rolls through Thor's waist. “If only you were bigger.” His voice takes on a dreamy lilt. “I would sit you on my cock, dear Rabbit. Can you imagine? I would not even need to oil myself! You would spill so sweet around me.” He sighs. “In all my life, I've never felt anything like you.”

“In 1500 years?” Rocket's words stagger out like staccato. “You should get out more, man. You- oh fuck- _fuck_.” Thor teases the flat edge of his thumbnail around Rocket's clit. It tickles unbearably. Rocket squirms and moans. When he bunches tight, it's around Thor, muscles clenching on fingers third knuckle-deep. Rocket registers the swish of the sleep pack and the husk of Thor's breaths between his ears.

Rocket wants to shift forward and back at the same time. He needs more pressure on his clit, and he needs Thor's fingers as deep as they can go. Decorum be damned, Rocket rubs his face in Thor's throat. His teeth catch on a particularly thick tendon. Thor's answering growl shakes Rocket to the deepest part of his belly. “You uh,” he gasps, “you gettin’ close?”

“Yes.” Thor's reply is short of breath.

Rocket's head spins. “Good, good ‘cause I don't- I want- oh shit-” He can't handle this. Not Thor's thumb, or his fingers stroking the delicate walls of his cunt. Not the steady thrum of tension under Thor's skin or the heavy burst of his breaths. The flutter of Thor's heartbeat. The flush of warmth on his skin. His earthy scent. The scratch of his beard. The low, pleased moans rumbling from his throat.

Rocket can take a lot but he can't take this. He feels like he's submerged. His body is bucking before he can get a hold of himself. Something pin-sharp and constant nestles in Rocket's back. His toes curl, and his thoughts stop making sense. Rocket feels, and floats.

His face wedges against Thor's chest, molding the fur out of place. Thor's mouth presses to the top of his head. He's breathing like he does when he's asleep, no snoring but heavy - like he's working out or something. Not that Rocket has ever watched Thor sleep before...

Thor's lethargic hand drifts from under the sleep pack. His fingers are a sex-soaked mess. From the glaze of Thor's good eye, he doesn't seem to mind. Slowly, he licks the length of his index finger. Rocket's spend and Thor's saliva form a delicious shine across his skin.

“Hey.” Rocket bumps his nose against Thor's neck. “Share?” It seems to take Thor a moment to puzzle out what Rocket means. When he does, he looks surprised, but he offers Rocket his other hand. The one, til now, that was tucked against Thor's thigh. It wears the milky threads of Thor's cum.

Rocket has never been one for tasting spend. It's not that it isn't his thing, but he's always perceived a loss of status in the act. Like, it would turn Rocket into even more of an animal, licking at the teet of whatever he's found to fuck him. Rocket is already a freak. He never used to want to play it up.

But Thor has no reservations. He slurps up Rocket's juices like a melting dessert. And Rocket has to admit, there's something about the sight of Thor's cum that makes his heart beat faster. It's proof that Thor got off, proof that Rocket's brain didn't conjure up this whole thing.

Rocket traps Thor's palm between his hands. With a tentative sniff, he wedges his face between Thor's wet fingers. Thor tastes...good. His cum and the salt of his skin blend together. Rocket finds his face bobbing faster, demanding as much of Thor as he can taste. Thor smells amazing this close, the headiness of arousal lingering on his hand.

Thor is staring, tongue-damp fingers pressed to his lips. Rocket smirks up at Thor. “Next time,” he says, “my mouth's gotta be on you when you jizz. I'm calling dibs.” It will be a lot for Rocket, trying to keep Thor's slit perfectly aligned with his mouth. If Rocket can't, he'll wind up with a face soaked by Thor's spend. The thought makes him chew the inside of a cheek. Excitement flares hot in his veins.

Distantly, Rocket realizes he's assumed 'next time' is a given.

Thor sets a cum-stained thumb against Rocket's mouth to quiet him. Drowsy as Rocket feels, the touch sends a defiant jolt through his gut. “Next time,” Thor says, “I'll quench my thirst between your thighs. You will peak harder than you ever have in your life, I swear it.”

Rocket's head swims from the thought. With a growl, he snaps his teeth hard enough to blush Thor's thumb to a pretty shade of pink.

Thor's mouth curls at a corner, a twitch that just about anyone else would miss. Rocket doesn't though, and new heat worms through his body. He's in trouble, and he loves it. Twisting under Thor's clothes, imagination on overdrive, Rocket can't remember ever feeling cold.

* The End *


End file.
